Dogs Dinner
by Jemmiah
Summary: Jemmy feels that ObiWan is taking her for granted...and is determined to teach him a lesson.


**Dogs Dinner**

**By Jemmiah**

(With thanks to 'Mouse' for the use of Rela Quinn)

* * *

So. The wanderer had returned. Again.

Jemmiah didn't know whether to be pleased or otherwise. Of course she was delighted that Obi-Wan was back on Coruscant safe and sound, save for a bacta pad that nestled around his wrist and a supporting sling to hold the wretched device in place, but considering the young padawan's track record Jemmy thought that getting off lightly. Imagining what life would be like without him was...unbearable. Intolerable.

In truth Obi-Wan stirred so many different feelings in the Corellian that she didn't know whether to keep him at arms length or embrace him with such passion that he would never want to leave her side again. While he got on with his Jedi life, obligingly following Qui-Gon into danger, disaster and force knew what other kinds of horribleness, Jemmiah had been left with only Zebedee for company. And the only reason she had him back was because her Uncle Kelik had insisted she take him as a guard dog whilst she was on Coruscant.

The fact that Zebedee was more likely to lick any intruders to death rather than sever their limbs had not matter one tiny iota. Of course Kelik's offer was completely altruistic and had nothing to do with keeping the monster-mutt away from his dwarf-sized Muja trees…

No, Jemmiah reflected thoughtfully, it wasn't that she didn't want Obi-Wan back: it was more that she didn't want Obi-Wan back right then and there, taking her for granted as he always did. They'd not seen each other for over a month and she had long accepted this as part of the Jedi way of life. So that was why when he turned up in his freshly laundered, crisp cream tunic and newly shaven padawan cut - with only his wicked, insolent smile to bestow by way of a gift - Jemmy found herself wanting to shake him by the shoulders until his teeth rattled.

He was after something. Knowing Obi-Wan the way she did there were only two possibilities: rubbing healing gel on his injuries whilst discussing how incredibly brave he had been or…well. A month was a very long time for a healthy young man to be taking cold showers and drinking calming herbal teas. Her money was on option two.

At least she had her fingers crossed…

Obi-Wan had sat down on Jemmiah's brown leather couch, trying to avoid the puddle of dog drool that had been flung far and wide across the room. Balefully the large cannoid eyed him from the exceeding large basket to which he had been banished on Obi-Wan's arrival. He scratched in doleful fashion at a tufted grey ear, sending clouds of wiry hair in the padawan's direction. Too bad if he was sulking, Kenobi thought as he smiled at the creature's antics. If it came down to a choice between the two of them he knew who would win.

"Tough luck, my canine friend." Obi-Wan said in a rather smug voice, crossing one booted heel over his other leg. "Jemmy has her priorities sorted out."

"What was that?" Jemmiah frowned, walking over to the poor beleaguered dog and offering it a kiss on the top of its head.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Nothing, apparently. I just thought I would come round here and see how you were getting on. After all, it's been over a month…"

"Has it really?" Her lips thinned into a wry smile.

"And I thought it would be nice to catch up with your news, that's all." He answered with a faintly embarrassed shrug of his unbandaged shoulder. "You know how important you are to me…and to Qui-Gon, of course. That will never change no matter where we are or how long we are away for. I'm glad you have the dog for company…even if he does drool all day."

"He does not!" Jemmy covered Zebedee's ears with her hands lest Obi-Wan's words offend her precious pet.

"And his feet smell." The apprentice continued to list his rival's bad points with apparent relish.

"I think that's rich coming from the sock manufacturer's nightmare." Jemmy rolled her eyes at Obi-Wan. "I admit that having a large, hairy, panting creature around the place has been rather comforting. A bit like having you here even when you're not, if you see what I mean." She continued to fuss and fawn over Zebedee much to Obi-Wan's chagrin. "Not very practical however. Plus I think my Aunt is missing him and will probably twist my Uncle Kelik's arm to get him back. Then it'll just be me again." Jemmiah regarded Obi-Wan coyly through half-lowered eyelashes. "Just me, on my own…in this little apartment. With nobody to disturb us. Not a soul to tell us what we can and can't do…"

"Ah." Obi-Wan's eyes regained their customary sparkle. This was sounding much more promising! "Yes, well…I was hoping you might help me out on a certain matter."

Jemmiah's face cracked into an unashamed grin. "Yes?"

"Knowing how wonderful you are…"

"Yes?"

"And how considerate and kind…"

"Yes?"

"Especially seeing as how the hero of the day hasn't yet been fed." Obi-Wan's face dimpled in anticipation. "And knowing what an excellent cook you are…when you put your mind to it, that is."

"When I put my mind…" Jemmy's mouth all but hung open. "Hero of the day hasn't been…you're talking about food again, aren't you?" She folded her arms across her chest. How typical! He turned up out of the blue, no message to say he was safe - just dropped in on the assumption that she would be waiting there to greet him with a big hug and a huge plate of Tooni wings and steamed vegetables! Had he learned nothing?

_Of course not,_ came back her cynical inner voice._ He's a man._

"You _are_ an excellent cook. And I have to admit that I am absolutely ravenous." Obi-Wan gazed mournfully past her shoulder towards the direction of the kitchen. "You're not going to make me eat at the refectory, are you?"

"But I'm only just back from Corellia myself, collecting the dog!" Jemmy protested. "I've hardly anything to eat at all…the refrigeration unit is about empty!"

Obi-Wan dismissed it as unimportant. "You're just being modest." He replied, trying to sweet-talk his way round her. "You always used to say you could create a banquet from the leftovers in the cold store. There must be something tucked away, hmm? Just whatever's in the cupboard…"

Shoozer, she could have cheerfully committed padawancide at that moment! Had he really proceeded to explain how much she meant to him and then in the same breath told her the reason he was visiting was in the hope of a decent meal? Did he think she would drop everything and run around him like a little puppy?

If Obi-Wan had been more observant, or perhaps a little less trusting, he might have noticed the way that Jemmiah's eyes had darkened as she mulled over his predicament. If he had learned his lesson from the past he might have known better than to consider putting his stomach first. If he'd been a little more quick on the uptake, rather than wondering what Leona was cooking for his master, perhaps it might have occurred to Obi-Wan that he was asking a woman who had once baked real stones into her rock cakes to prepare a gourmet meal at a moment's notice.

Obi-Wan however remained one of life's optimists and wouldn't recognise the obvious it smacked him in the face with a ten-foot sign.

"I can't exactly cook for myself." The padawan sighed theatrically, nodding down at his bandaged arm. "And Qui-Gon has left me to fend for myself this evening…"

Jemmiah swallowed back her irritation. If he wanted restaurant style food created from the contents of her cupboards then that was exactly what he was going to get.

"And how would the hero of the hour like his food served?" She asked sweetly.

"Oh, infront of the holo screen." Obi-Wan picked up the remote and began to change the channels, leaning forward with interest the moment that the Gabali came into view. "Do you know, it's been so long since I did this…just relaxed in a comfortable room, with a good meal…and of course the most important thing of all." His eyes fixed directly on Jemmiah, causing her heart to flutter just as it always did whenever he made her the focus of his attention.

"Yes?" She breathed expectantly, willing in that moment to forgive him anything.

"A glass of Cutlass Ale." He answered, oblivious to the crestfallen expression on Jemmy's face. "You wouldn't happen to have one, would you?"

Jemmiah mentally counted to five, turned on her heel…and then marched smartly through to the kitchen.

* * *

Why it always came as a surprise to be taken for granted each time Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant, Jemmiah couldn't say. Maybe it was just some kind of vain hope that he might have changed, or more likely out of some form of masochism? Perhaps she'd expected too much from the padawan in willing him to consider her own feelings more than he - at least on the surface - was prepared to show. She knew that he cared for her inasmuch as a Jedi was allowed to love another: their destinies had been intertwined from the moment the force had engineered their meeting all those years ago…but some kind of declaration would have been nice! A brief "I hope you've been keeping well. You look stunning…now where's my supper?" would have been nice, rather than just the "where's my supper" part.

_He does care for me. I have heard him say it in the past. And it's not like I'm looking for commitment,_ Jemmy reminded herself. _But I would have liked an acknowledgement of how much he appreciated me rather than just my culinary skills._

Obi-Wan sat tucking in to the large pile of stew placed on a little lap tray, his fork currently halfway between his open mouth and the plate. Even the Gabali results appeared more interesting to him at that moment than the meal she had slavishly conjured up out of the meagre rations in the cupboard. And this was the man she was hoping would keep her company through the night and into the small hours of morning? What in the name of Corellia's many hells did she see in him?

_It's those eyes,_ she sighed to herself. _And that smile…along with that cute little pout thing he sometimes does. The way his cheeks dimple when he grins. That wonderful rich voice…and that amazing strutting walk. Not to mention his…_

The sound of the door chime cut off Jemmy's thoughts from descending into areas they possibly shouldn't. Brows drawing instinctively in on one another, the Corellian switched her glance from Obi-Wan towards the elegant hallway. Who could this be? As if things weren't difficult enough without adding further complications into the mix! Expelling a deep breath Jemmy reached for the vocoder and allowed the holocam to reveal the identity of the individual outside.

In this case, Rela Quinn.

"Hey Jem, it's me!" The red head smirked up at the holo cam. "Just wanted to say welcome back and congrats on winning that big race on Corellia. The whole temple was watching. Spectacular turn on that last bend! Anyhow, thought I'd get in before Scrubby comes back and hogs you to himself…you know what he's like when he hasn't seen a woman in over a month. It's like a rutting Bantha…"

Pause.

"He's here, isn't he?" Rela closed her eyes. "Why do I always walk into these things, huh?"

"Come on in, Rel." Jemmy shrugged back. "The particular Bantha to which you are referring isn't so much rutting as stuffing his face."

"Building up his energy, eh?" Winked Rela lasciviously as the door swung back, allowing her to step into Jemmy's brightly-lit hallway. She stopped for a moment, sniffing the air. "Mmmm. Something smells good! Scrubby got you back in harness, has he?"

Jemmiah bristled, even although it had been a joke. At least she assumed it had been. Rela's words had been just a touch too near the mark for her liking.

"It's ridiculous!" She hissed, her eyes blazing a trail towards Obi-Wan who had finally lifted the fork up to his mouth. "What is it with men? I may not be the most intellectual of people, nor have I ever pretended to be, but a conversation would be nice! Something other than food, sleep or horizontal jogging…"

Rela's eyebrows quirked. "Feeling unappreciated?"

"Every now and again I'd like to have some attention. I don't just want to be some auxiliary back-up to the temple refectory, or an alternative nurse or someone who provides all the comforts a Jedi shouldn't really be getting. The only compliment I've gotten from him since he arrived was about how good a cook I was. And that was more in the line of a hint than a compliment."

"That's the Jedi for you." Rela nodded sadly.

Jemmy struck a defensive pose, arms crossed over her chest. "It's of no consequence." She answered with airy disinterest. "I've played him at his own game. I'm in the process of teaching him a lesson he will never forget."

Now _that_ sounded distinctly ominous, Rela thought as she followed Jemmiah into the living area. Half torn between not wanting to witness a potential spat between the two lovers and wishing to know what precisely Jemmy had planned, the more diminutive of the two young women walked over to Obi-Wan and, ignoring the dog drool, threw herself onto the couch next to him.

"Hi Scrubby." She reached over and pinched his cheek. "Like the sling! Still managing to eat with just the one arm out of action, I see."

"Rela." Obi-Wan acknowledge her with a grin, even although her name came out in a garbled, full-mouthed mess.

"Ewww…" Rela made pretence of wiping invisible pieces of food from her hair. "Learn to eat nicely! If Jemmy's gone to all the trouble of making this for you the least you can do is digest it rather than spray it everywhere!"

"She's a miracle worker." Admitted Obi-Wan with an appreciative gaze towards the Corellian. "I was frankly quite jealous of the way Qui-Gon was being spoiled and pampered by Leona. He spent the afternoon telling me exactly what she'd decided to cook for him…"

"So you thought you'd see if Jem loved you enough to do the same on the spur of the moment, hmm?" Guessed Rela, thumbing her nose conspiratorially. "I've got you sussed, Kenobi! Anything Qui-Gon gets, Obi-Wan has to have too! Don't you ever think of poor Jemmy? Hardly anything of her own to eat and she gives you the very last morsels in her storage cupboards?"

Obi-Wan had the grace to look fractionally guilty. "I'm extremely grateful and what is more I intend to let her know exactly how special she is…later on. Although knowing my luck she probably sleeps with the dog on her bed…"

"I think a simple 'thank you' would be the best place to start." Rela replied earnestly. "Otherwise you might not get the chance to find out if the dog sleeps on her bed or not." She looked down at the plate of brown stew, with a smattering of green peas and gourals on the side for decoration. It didn't look especially appetising; it had to be said. Not Jemmy's usual standards - but then Kenobi had been on at her to whisk something up out of thin air. And it certainly smelled terrific, so much that Rela's mouth began to water.

"What _is_ that?" She nodded at the plate.

"Stew?" Obi-Wan examined a strangely glistening piece of meat as it wobbled on his fork. Come to think of it, stew really wasn't supposed to glisten, but Obi-Wan didn't care: it tasted okay and that was all that mattered at the end of the day.

"Yeah," Rela continued doggedly, "but what kind of stew? Nerf? Hoppity? Guelm?"

"I'm not sure." Obi-Wan frowned, chewing the meat over for a while in his mouth as if trying to form an opinion on the subject. "Jemmy," he asked between mouthfuls, "what kind of stew is this?"

There was a brief pause.

"Nerf pieces and Reek kidneys in jelly."

Obi-Wan's frown grew. He stabbed suspiciously at a large, jellied piece of meat and held it up closer for inspection, twisting his fork at every angle. There _was_ something that looked vaguely like a piece of kidney…not that Obi-Wan was particularly keen on offal of any description and had thus never really made a close study of it.

"Nerf pieces?" Rela felt the need to ask the question that was on the tip of Obi-Wan's tongue. "And Reek kidneys? In jelly? What kind of a stew is that?"

Jemmy shrugged. "It's not really a stew. It's more something I threw together to stop Ben's stomach from rumbling."

"Then what is it?" Asked Rela, exchanging a concerned glance with Obi-Wan.

"Dog food."

If it wasn't a contradiction, Jemmy could have sworn the silence around her had grown to deafening proportions. The stunned look on Obi-Wan's face was no less that she had expected at that point, but even she hadn't been prepared for the mildly horrified and squeamish expression that Rela had chosen to adopt: as if the urge to vomit was warring with admiration for one who had just about pulled off the most disgusting stunt ever seen in the galaxy. Her nose wrinkled in seemingly perpetual revulsion. Obi-Wan just sat there, a victim of petrifaction if ever she saw one, fork still in his right hand.

"Don't give me that look." Jemmy grumbled. "You said you liked how it tasted."

The look of disgust spread yet further on Rela's face.

"You made Obi-Wan a dog's dinner?" She put her hand up to her mouth as if she might yet be sick, although Jemmy thought she could now see a slight grin hiding behind her splayed fingers.

"Well, it's like I said." Jemmy rubbed distractedly at her neck. "I told Ben I could only give him what was in the storage cupboard. And all I happened to have was dog food…"

At this point Obi-Wan pushed the tray to one side, leapt over the couch and in one swift bound hurtled towards the doorway in search of the nearest turbo lift. Jemmiah shook her head at the ingratitude of the padawan: after all her hard work! They'd lived off ration bars, unidentifiable critters, berries and thin air whilst stranded on Urior's moon, and now he was complaining when given something far more substantial…something likely to keep his coat glossy, at any rate.

"Where does he think he's going in such a hurry?" Rela wondered with a mischievous smirk not far from her lips.

Jemmy sighed.

"I dunno. Must be time for his walkies."


End file.
